


Disclosure

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Smut, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: Stiles likes to watch, Peter always gets what he wants and Chris doesn’t mind.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 117





	Disclosure

It happens after a fight. They are both bloody and sweat-soaked and high on adrenaline when they stumble into Peter’s apartment, already reaching for each other. Somehow one of them manages to switch the lights on.

Peter chuckles when Chris presses him against the wall roughly and mouths at his neck, stubble scratching over skin just right.

The hunter doesn’t waste any time. He tears Peter’s clothes off and if he wasn’t so turned on, Peter would have complained about the torn off button that clatters as it falls on the floor and rolls away. But he doesn’t. He is too busy keeping his mouth on Chris’ while pulling the hunter towards the bed.

They fall on it and Chris snarls in irritation when Peter’s jeans won’t come off. His eyes narrow and his lips pull back, exposing his teeth. He looks a bit like a wolf in that moment and Peter loves it. He doesn't help Chris with the jeans because he enjoys the hunter's rough impatient touch way too much. And he enjoys the huff of satisfaction, when the pants end up on the floor like his other clothes.

Peter already knows this will be spectacular. After all the hassle and mess today, he can’t wait to lie back and savor this.

But right when Chris finally gets rid of his own shirt and reaches down to open his belt buckle, a few surprising things happen in the matter of seconds.  
  
The door opens abruptly and a gesticulating Stiles with messed up hair and dirt all over his face comes running in, already rambling something about “ … that damn thing had friends, and I swear to God if Scott doesn’t … Oh.”  
  
Stiles stops walking and talking. His jaw drops open. He stares at Chris and Peter on the bed and they stare right back. There is a long moment of silence.   
  
Stiles’ mouth opens and closes a few times, reminding Peter of a goldfish. When Stiles finally finds his words, he is already taking shaky steps backward, his hands coming up and gesturing wildly. Finally, Stiles covers his eyes with them and almost trips over Peter’s shoes on the floor. “Oh my … I’m so sorry. Oh God. I … I’ll just, uh, leave. Sorry, I … Bye!” he stutters, his cheeks a bright red. Peter watches mildly amused, as Stiles gropes around for the door handle frantically while also trying not to look.

“You can stay and watch anytime, kitten!” He calls and winks at Stiles, who makes a frightened choked off noise and slams the door shut.

Chris rubs the back of his head and sighs. “He’s going to tell everyone about this, you know?” 

“So what,” Peter shrugs. “You think no one noticed yet? Werewolves, Chris. They can smell you on me and me on you.” He sniffs the air and smirks. “Besides, Stiles seemed to rather like what he stumbled into.” Of course he did. How could he not? 

Chris just arches a knowing brow.

At least, he doesn’t seem too fazed by the interruption and Peter still gets his spectacular sex.  
  


* * *

  
Things get interesting.

The following weeks, Stiles throws them glances at pack meetings. He smells of curiosity and embarrassment, but there is also a whiff of arousal. It is the same scent Peter caught in the apartment after Stiles left. It smells sweet. It itches something inside Peter. Stirs a fantasy that’s quite pleasant.

Peter decides to investigate. After all, Stiles blushes too beautifully when he is embarrassed.

One evening, after the tedious talks are over and everyone minds their own business, Peter strolls over to Stiles who is still staring at a map of Beacon Hills and leans into his personal space. “I wouldn’t mind, you know?” he breathes and smirks when Stiles jumps violently and yelps.

The boy immediately begins to ramble, his ears turning cherry red. “What? What are you … _What_?!”

“I wouldn’t mind you watching us,” Peter says slowly, drawing the words out. “You can watch me and Christopher having sex, if you want.”  
  
Stiles swallows heavily. He tries hard to look indifferent. But he doesn’t manage. “I don’t … It was just an accident, alright?! I don’t want to watch you.” And his heartbeat ticks up and stumbles. Oh, it must be Christmas.  
  
“Don't forget I can sense a lie, sweetheart,” Peter purrs, reaching up to smooth down Stiles’ crumpled shirt. “There is no need to be shy. This is perfectly fine. It’s just sex.”

Stiles flinches at the word and now his face turns almost as red as his ears. He doesn’t say anything. It almost seems like Peter managed to shut him up for the first time ever.

“Well,” he says, smiling broadly. “The offer stands. You know where to find me.” He turns and walks away slowly, waiting for …

“Wait!”

Ah. There it is. Peter smiles to himself and turns to look back at Stiles, arching a brow. “Yes?”  
  
Stiles clenches his hands into fists and for a moment, it seems like he won’t say it, but then, the words all blurt out of him in remarkable speed. “Okay! Alright. Yes, I’d like to watch. Very. I’d like to watch you and Chris have sex. It’s been in my head the whole damn week. You’re happy now?!”

“Yes. Very happy,” Peter grins. “We are going to have a lot of fun together.”  
  
Stiles looks slightly intimidated at that and Peter guesses he overdid it with the grinning. Probably showed too many teeth or used the wrong tone. He mentally shrugs and walks away. He already knows Stiles is on the hook.  
  


* * *

  
Peter is actually not 100% sure Chris would be on board with his idea. 

Although they are not really having a relationship, altough they are just fucking from time to time and know the other one occasionally fucks someone else, Chris can be a possessive bastard when the mood strikes him. 

Peter doesn't mind. He still shivers pleasantly when he remembers how Chris pressed that way too intrusive guy in a bar against the wall and told him to stay away from Peter, his eyes shooting daggers.

From time to time, they collide and fight for power because of Chris’ tendency to get all bossy in bed and out of it, but mostly, Peter is content with letting the hunter call the shots. But, how would Chirs react to the idea of someone else - Stiles of all people - watching? Peter will have to find out, because he definitely wants it. Especially after Stiles admitted he wants it too. Stiles is pretty interesting. He is smart, attentive and good-looking in his very own way.

Peter waits until Chris decides to show up again. It is a mild late summer night and to his surprise, Chris brought a bottle of wine. The good one.

They have sex and it is more tender than last time. 

Chris stays after it and when they are laying in bed, still naked, the night breeze coming through the open window cooling the sweat on their bodies and the wine tasting sweet on their tongues, Peter mentions it, as casually as possible.  
  
“Stiles wants to watch us.”  
  
Chris hums, reaching for the bottle to refill his glass. “Does he now.” 

“Sure he does. I asked him,” Peter says, smirking at the memory of a flustered Stiles. “Just took some coaxing.” 

“He’s very young,” Chris points out with a frown. “Too young for either of us …”  
  
Chris mentioning Stiles’ age but nothing else is a good sign for Peter. And the way Chris’ scent changes is an even better sign. “Well, he is old enough. You like the thought. Don’t deny it. I can smell it. You like the thought of him being here with us. We never did something like that,” Peter says, running clawed fingers down Chris’ chest lightly. “I think you’d like it. Showing off. Showing how you are able to utterly wreck a werewolf and seeing someone else being turned on by it …”

After a moment, Chris sighs. It sounds a bit defeated. “Well. Go ahead. You always get what you want.” 

Peter smirks. “Oh yes. I do.” 

* * *

Stiles looks a bit lost. He stands in the middle of the bedroom, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes wide and unsure. 

Peter gently leads Stiles to the chair beside the bed and makes him sit on it. 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asks for the maybe tenth time. “Are you sure? I mean … Isn’t this obtrusive? Me, sitting here and staring, while you … you know.” 

“Do you want to watch, Stiles?” Chris interrupts from where he is sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard. And when Peter looks at him, he can see that now, Chris is definitely on board with this. His eyes are dark and he is already palming at the bulge in his jeans. 

Stiles swallows and blushes, his eyes glued to Chris' hand. “Yeah.”  
  
“And we want you to watch. So everything’s fine,” Chris smiles. It is a toothy and dark smile, that makes Stiles shiver visibly. “Okay,” he breathes. 

Peter smiles at him reassuringly and joins Chris on the bed, just pulling the hunter in for a deep kiss. You have to start somewhere, after all. 

“Fuck,” Stiles whispers from the sideline and oh yes, that was a perfect idea. The word alone, the breathiness in Stiles’ awestrucked voice, is enough to make Peter’s toes curl in pleasure.  
  
They start to undress each other. Their clothes land on the floor carelessly. Chris’ moan when Peter wraps his lips around his cock is mirrored by Stiles'. When Peter is glancing at him, Stiles is squirming on the chair, the bulge in his pants all too visibly. And big. Peter pulls off Chris to lick his lips. “Don’t be shy. You can touch yourself,” he suggests.  
  
Stiles hesitates, but when Chris nods at him, he opens his belt buckle with trembling fingers and pulls his jeans and boxers down enough to free his straining cock, sighing in relief. 

Peter smirks and goes back down on Chris, keeping an eye on Stiles. This is perfect. 

It continues to be perfect.  
  
Stiles strips his cock and mutters breathless obscenities while Peter opens himself up and sinks down on Chris’ cock. He comes soon after, with a moan that sounds both euphoric and a bit disappointed. Peter guesses Stiles wanted to hold on until the whole show was over. When he watches Stiles wiping his spent cock with a crumpled tissue he found somewhere in the pockets of his pants, Peter has an idea that makes his spine tingle and his toes curl. He slips off Chris’ cock who makes a slightly irritated noise and sits back on his knees, crooking a finger at Stiles. “Come here, kitten.” 

Stiles freezes and gulps, looking from Peter to Chris and back. 

“Go on,” Chris says easily and Stiles scrambling to move after that, Stiles waiting for Chris’ permission, makes Peter shiver in delight. 

Stiles’ cock is already half-hard again. Peter directs Stiles to stand in front of the bed and goes on his hands and knees, leaning forward to lap at Stiles’ cock, humming contentedly at the scent and taste of it. “Oh my God,” Stiles gasps. 

Peter smirks up to him. “Just Peter is fine, but thank you.”  
  
“Bastard,” Stiles snorts, tipping his head back and closing his eyes when Peter wraps his lips around his cock and sucks.  
  
Chris finally moves and gets on his knees behind Peter, guiding his cock back in. This way, he has to lock eyes with Stiles, Peter knows. A part of him wants to see how this looks, but overall, he is perfectly fine with being in the middle of this, filled and surrounded by both of them, by their scents and warmth and breathes. He feels gloriously drunk on sensations.

Chris’ hips stutter and he thrusts in deep, indicating that he is chasing his orgasm. Peter moans around Stiles’ dick and smirks when Stiles gasps and his hips hitch up. He runs timid fingers through Peter’s hair. They tighten a bit when Peter flicks his tongue against Stiles’ cock. He makes a noise that hopefully sounds encouraging, but he can tell Stiles is hesitating. 

“Do it,” Chris says roughly, and God, Peter loves him for this. “He likes it.”  
  
Finally, Stiles’ fingers tighten. He pulls at Peter’s hair and rocks his hips up. Peter groans in approval and goes boneless between them. He feels lightheaded in the best of ways. 

Stiles is the first to come. He breathes a litany of “fuck, fuck, fuck …” and stills with a moan, his cock twitching in Peter’s mouth. He swallows and Stiles curses, whining from the overstimulation when Peter continues to lap at his cock for a moment before he pulls off, licking his lips and smirking at Stiles, who looks utterly debauched, watching with wide eyes as Peter reaches for his own cock while Chris murmurs a curse of his own and speeds up his thrusts.  
  
Peter keeps his eyes on Stiles when he comes, spilling over his own hand with a groan. Chris comes a moment later, his hands gripping Peter’s hips tight enough to create bruises that fade after a moment. 

For a moment, there is silence, only interrupted by their combined heavy breaths and pants.

They all end up on the bed, sticky and sweaty, but gloriously sated. Peter is certain that was one of the best ideas he’d ever had. 

“So … This happened,” Stiles says sometime, sounding awed. 

“Hmmm,” Peter purrs, stroking a finger down Stiles’ back. “It did. And it was perfect.” 

“Uh, can’t argue with that,” Stiles says, blushing a beautiful strawberry pink. Peter thinks he has too many clothes on. Sometime, he’d like to see if Stiles blushed beautifully like this everywhere. 

Like on clue, Stiles asks somewhwat shyly, “Was this, like, a one time thing? Or … You know, could this happen again?” 

Peter just smirks. He waits for Chris, who hums and then says, “I think it could happen again. If you want.”  
  
“I want,” Stiles says quickly. Something in his eyes indicates that maybe, he doesn’t only think of sex. Maybe, he also thinks of bottles of wine, nice dinners or shared nights. Peter wouldn’t mind. He can share. With the right people, at least. 


End file.
